Enemy
by FromTheClouds
Summary: Of course, Enjolras has no love as strong as his love for Patria. Fresh out of the university, he has dedicated his life to his studies, not planning on letting love get in his way. But when he mother hires him a maid, will he love something else besides France? ON HAITUS
1. I

**Okay so I'm madly in love with Les Mis so I thought I'd write a fanfic about my favorite character, Enjolras. Not only is he hot, but hes hot and hes also bow-chicka-wow-wow.**

**No but really, I admire his character a lot, and although in the book (which I have yet to read) it says he is only in love with "Patria" which basically means France. And although he'd obviously never put anyone before France, I thought it be interesting to write about him falling in love.**

**Since I haven't read the book, but I've seen the musical, I'm just going to combine the two sorta and allll that jazz. **

**For those of you who HAVE read the book, though, I hope it won't irritate you. I also commend you for reading it as I have heard it's quite a difficult read. After all this lovely AP English texts I'd like to give it a try!**

**Not everything is going to be perfectly accurate; but I'll try to get as close as I can. I apologize if anything is inaccurate, let me know...nicely.**

**ANYWAYYSSSSS WITHOUT FURTHER ADO...**

*EnjolrasPOV*

I strolled through the outdoor market, picking through fruits and vegetables the street vendors were selling.

I was 22, fresh out of the university; ready to continue studying government on my own and look for a job.

As a graduation gift, my parents had gotten me a small villa in a more secluded part of Paris. It wasn't as large as the home I lived in with them, but it was nice, and it even had a few guest rooms. My parents looked at it as a starter house, since they expected me to get married and have children, but I knew that was never going to happen, I could probably live my whole life there content.

My mother and father promised they'd get someone to cook and clean for me, but they were having trouble finding reliable service. I was struggling to make decent food, most of the nights eating out; but on the occasions I did stay in it was slightly a pain.

I didn't want a maid, or anyone to take care of me. A maid could be a ploy of my mother's to see me married off, and I wanted none of that. I was perfectly fine being independent, although I was slightly overwhelmed by the amount of work it took. I didn't want anyone knowing I was unable to cook and clean. I'd taught myself most of what I knew, how hard could it be? I knew I would figure it out eventually.

I reached for some apples displayed and pulled them out. As I turned around, I bumped into something hard and dropped all of the fruits and vegetable in my hands.

"Oh pardon me, m'sieur," said a quiet female voice. I dropped on my knees to pick up the fallen foods.

"It's alright." I mumbled quietly, surprised when I saw the girl drop beside me. She glanced up at me quickly as she handed me a few apples.

"Do you have a basket?" She asked.

I shook my head, "I'm afraid not."

She smiled as she handed me a carrot. "You really should. Your apples will be bruised now."

I didn't respond as I picked up the last tomato which was slightly smashed. "I'm sure it'll be alright."

She nodded, standing up with a basket under her arm. She was wearing a light purple dress, her hair was tied back at the nape of her neck. She lifted an apple off the display, turning it over in her hands before setting it back down and picking up a new one, doing the same before setting it in her basket. She glanced up at me for a moment. "Can I help you, m'sieur? Do you know what you're shopping for?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm alright, thank you."

She nodded, "Because you look a bit confused. I work here, if I could be of any assistance, let me know."

"I'm fine." I said curtly.

She tilted her head to the side, as though she didn't believe me. I didn't particularly care for the women that flirted with me, and she was no exception. "Let me know if you need anything."

She turned around and began walking in the opposite direction.

"Actually!" I called and she stopped, glancing over her shoulder. "I was planning on making soup tonight."

She scoffed. "You're not exactly off to a great start."

"Excuse me?" I was surprised at her tone.

"Don't take offense. I'd be happy to help." The girl stepped closer and looked around her, taking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Well then." I coughed, "Where shall we start?"

She bit her lower lip and looked at me, narrowing an eye. "Let me think for a moment."

I nodded and let her take her time. I prayed she wasn't using this as an excuse to seduce me, like most women. I had better things to do than find a mistress, and I wasn't keen on women flirting with me wherever I went. This happened often, too, and although I needed help, I wasn't sure if she misinterpret my motives or not, as most women did.

"Alright come here," she brushed past me and walked back towards the vegetable area. I followed her. Every now and than she would hand something to me, instructing me what exactly to do with it, how long to cook it, and all. She spoke with an accent I had never heard before, pausing a few times to correct her grammar.

"Here's some carrots, you're going to want to-"

"Where are you from?" I interrupted her suddenly, and her head snapped up. I remembered my manners. "I'm sorry to cut you off, I haven't heard an accent like yours before. What part of France do you come from?"

"Oh," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I'm not from France. Believe me, I wouldn't choose to live in such a dreadful place."

I took the carrot she held in her hand, taking offense to her words. "This is the place I call my home." I raised my voice slightly.

She stepped back, her eyes dark. "I understand." she breathed quietly. "It is my home too." Her voice became deeper, she sounded more sure of herself. "But it is not the home I choose."

I shook my head, astounded. "That isn't the matter. You should not be speaking that way of France. It is disrespectful. Many, many people in other countries are starving and wish to have clothes on their backs. Consider yourself lucky to live in a place where you have a job and a home."

"But is that not happening here as well? Are there not beggars and poor here as well? Don't tell me my business, monsieur." Her eyes narrowed and she straightened up, looking me right in the eye.

I shook my head angrily at her again. "I cannot continue to speak to a fool such as you."

I turned on my heel and stormed away, leaving her with her arms crossed, basket still in hand.

"You're welcome!" she called after me sweetly.

I made a beeline for the register to pay for my items. I didn't care that I had barely any of the ingredients I needed, but I couldn't be around a woman like that anymore. That was why I refused to marry. Women only argued and got in the way of more important aspects of life. Like the well being of a country.

* * *

The next day I was reading in my study when I heard a knock on the door. I wasn't expecting anyone, but I marched down the steps into the small foyer and turned the polished silver handle. I was surprised to see my mother.

"Oh Enjorlas, darling. Hello," she smiled at me warmly.

"Mother, what are you doing here today?" I looked around frantically, praying she wouldn't notice the condition of my home.

"I was just passing through town and thought I'd stop to see how you're adjusting to live on your own." She peered behind me in the kitchen, but I blocked her view with my shoulder.

I had always thought my mother was beautiful growing up. She had the blonde curls I had inherited, but brown eyes instead of blue. She was slender and pale, but graceful, although now her hair was cropped shorter. She had aged a lot since I began my studies at the university. Now beside her eyes and lips there were wrinkles, and thin blue veins were becoming visible in her hands and arms.

As the son of a wealthy man, my mother didn't really raise me. I had countless servants and nannies; all of whom kept a watchful eye on me. Not to say my mother was bad, but it wasn't until I was a teenager that I really began to know her. Until than she had merely been here and there in my life. I had thought that was normal for a long time, she had other things to do, such as parties, entertaining and social engagements. Wealthy wives didn't waste time on something as trivial as raising her son. That's just the way things worked.

"Oh I do enjoy it, mother. I made soup last night. It was quite delicious." I lied, scratching the back of my neck.

"That sounds lovely. How do you like the home?" she looked around her. "You're father bought it, and I hardly got the chance to see it all. It is big enough?"

I nodded quickly. "It's just perfect, mother. You two couldn't have chosen anything better. How is father by the way?"

"Oh, he's working on." she said.

"That's great to hear. Why don't we go sit in the parlor?" I asked, taking her arm and leading her as far away from the kitchen as possible.

"Sounds just lovely. Oh this is just so splendid, don't you think?" she looked around the parlor and glanced as me as I helped her sit down on a small chaise.

I nodded, smiling at her, "Mother, I have been reading some amazing books. I can't wait to tell you-"

Her face fell, "Oh, Enjolras. I do appreciate your interest in your studies. But have you gone outside recently? Please do. You need to find a wife. I would love to see you married and love to have some grandchildren. That's why your father and I bought you such a home."

I shook my head. "Mother I have no interest in finding a wife at this time...actually, never."

"Oh but son, you're so handsome, all the women adore you." she pinched my cheek. Often times I wasn't sure if she remembered I was a grown man.

I sighed. "Mother, I have been studying such strong leaders. Did I tell you I got a job? I work for one of my professors part-time. Isn't that good news?"

My mother just smiled halfheartedly at me. "Oh son, I am so happy for you. But don't dismiss my words, please give them a thought."

There was no use arguing. "Yes mother, I will consider it."

She smiled, relieved. "Oh, I forgot to tell you!" she exclaimed.

"What is it?"

"I have found someone to help you cook and clean."

I shook my head. "I don't need-"

"But you are busy with your studies and your job, are you not? She is willing to cook and clean for you. And since you have servants quarters, we wouldn't want them to go to waste, now would we?"

I felt defeated. "Mother I do not need.-"

There was a knock on the door.

"I hope you don't mind, I invited her over to see if she's interested. The poor girl had nowhere to live and was willing to do anything."

"Mother," I sighed, exhausted.

"Now come, she is very sweet she will work well for you. She's not bad to look at either, you don't have to worry about that."

She. That was just great.

My mother marched back into the foyer, ignoring my objections. I could see there was no way out of this.

The door blocked me from viewing her as I heard my mother talking to her kindly.

"Well come inside." My mother waved her in. "This is my son, Enjolras."

I offered my hand with a grimace until I saw who it was. Than my face fell.

"Monsieur," she had a smile but it fell, too.

The girl who I had encountered at the market stood before me, her eyes dark. My mother, of course, was oblivious to the tension.

"My name is Adrienne," her smile returned quickly, not missing a beat.

We stood there shaking each others hands and not breaking eye contact for awhile.

"Enjolras, why don't you show Adrienne around?" My mother interrupted.

There would be no point of arguing with her. At least not until I could come up with a legitimate reason for firing her.

"Of course." I said, unsmiling but trying to adjust my attitude for my mother's sake.

I led Adrienne around the house, showing her the rooms and watching her grimace at the condition of the kitchen.

"How was the soup?" she asked suddenly, quietly so that my mother couldn't hear. She gasped as I stepped on her foot.

"Oh excuse me!" I exclaimed, my eyes narrowing.

"It's fine!" she smiling, seemingly unirritated.

"Oh, and here's the servant's quarters." I opened the door to the small room off the kitchen.

I hadn't been in it yet, and I was surprised at it's poor condition. The walls were barren, the paint chipping. A small shelf hung above the lumpy mattress, and a wooden chair and table were in the opposite corner. It couldn't have been much bigger than 20 square feet.

Adrienne smiled though. "It's perfect." and I swallowed when I noticed no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

"So what do you think?" my mother asked.

"It's great. I'll take the job. Thank you so much." she grinned.


	2. II

**Hey guys so thanks for reading! I'm not sure how often I will be able to update, probably ****at least once every two weeks, but more. Seeing as I'm not too busy! ****I really appreciate all reviews and whatnot, so please don't hesitate to drop me one! I ****thank you in advance!**

***Disclaimer: I do not own Les Mis***

_*EnjolrasPOV*_

I walked my mother out to the carriage that awaited her, not bothering to argue with her as she chatted about how happy she was to have seen me and how glad she was that she had finally found me a maid. I nodded and grimaced enough that it looked like a convincing smile, but as soon as she stepped into the carriage and pulled away I turned around, the smile falling from my face.

"Adrienne." I said calmly as I entered the house again.

The young woman looked up at me, her big brown eyes wide. She was wearing the same pale purple dress from before, and I now noticed it was dirty and slightly worn. She held a bag by her side, which I assumed contained the rest of her belongings.

"Yes?" She tilted her head to the side, meeting my eyes.

"Regardless of what my mother has said, this isn't going to work."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," she interrupted.

I shook my head. "I don't need a maid, let alone you. I don't need someone to take care of me. I live on my own, who is there to watch after? "

She opened her mouth to speak but I cut her off.

I shook my head. "No,"

"What?"

"Just no." I walked toward her, putting my hand on her back. "I refuse." I led her toward the door.

"Enjolras-" she protested, taking a step backwards.

"Please, don't make this anymore difficult than it has to be, I've noticed that's a trend of yours-"

"Is it because of what I said? Because you have to understand I didn't mean it."

"It's not just that-"

"Monsieur please understand. I'm not French... I'm American," She turned around and looked at me, speaking quickly, her words slurring together "I said it's dreadful because I'm not used to this kind of government see things don't work the same there. I don't like the way government works here I'm just not used to it and-"

"You're what?" I stopped in my tracks, glancing down at her.

"I'm just not used to this form of government. We have a democracy in America ever since we separated from Great Britain. I wasn't alive then, so all I've ever known is that. I don't mean to offend you but I really dislike this..."

"Monarchy." I said flatly, turning on my heels and staring off, thinking. She could...perhaps be a valuable source of information. She knew what life in a democracy was like, she had firsthand accounts. And as long as she wasn't going to try to start fights...if she stayed out of the way...

"Right," she shook her head, he voice took me back to reality. "It wasn't meant to be personal."

"What about your job at the market?"

She sighed. "Oh well, it's quite a long story," her head shook.

"We have all the time in the world."

"Okay, well, it's not really that long. I actually would rather not talk about it." Her grammar faltered and it took me a moment to understand what she was saying.

"Well," I said quietly, "How long have you lived in France?"

"I believe..." she pursed her lips and considered this for a moment. "Nine or ten years."

"That's quite a while. Here, follow me. I'll take your bag." I reached out but she pulled away.

"That's alright, monsieur."

I walked up the wooden staircase, hearing her shoes echo behind mine as we escalated. I chose the guest room farthest down the hallway from mine and opened the door to it. It had a window, the sunlight streamed through. It was painted white and the bed had a pale cream comforter on it. There was a mahogany dresser, and a small chaise by the window.

"You can stay here."

"But what about the-"

"I don't think that's in any sort of living condition. I have multiple guest rooms that no one is living in, it's fine if you stay in here. Go ahead and get settled in. I'll be in my study if you need anything." I didn't want anybody staying in that sorry excuse for a servant's quarters.

She smiled at me with straight white teeth, "Thank you, monsieur."

I nodded in response before backing up and shutting the door.

* * *

The next morning I woke, washed up and got dressed before making my way downstairs. Yesterday Adrienne had swept and dusted and polished most of the day, and although I remained in my study, she came upstairs and told me dinner was ready.

I was greeted by a sweet aroma. Breakfast, I figured. Her cooking wasn't anything compared to the cooks I'd had in my childhood, but it was much better than what I could have done, and I was grateful. In the dining room sat a plate with an omelette and a single lit candle in front of it. There was a cup of tea and a glass of water. Adrienne was nowhere to be seen. The table itself had four chairs, but the size of the room suggested that more people could be in capacity. I sighed and used my knife to cut the omelette into pieces. Today I started my job for the professor, and than later I had a meeting with some of my friends at the cafe down the road.

After I was finished eating, I piled my plates on top of one another and than walked into the kitchen to give them to Adrienne. She sat with her back to me, legs crossed, sitting at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. A plate of untouched food sat in front of her, and her hand was poised underneath her chin as she gazed out the small window above the stove.

I cleared my throat, shifting my weight. Adrienne immediately jumped and turned to me.

"Can I help you, monsieur- oh! Please don't bother with the dishes I can handle that." She got up, her expression blank as she took the plate and cups from my hand before setting them in the sink.

"Its not-"

"Just let me do that from now on. How is the food?" she inquired, turning back around to look at me, he eyebrow raised.

"It was fine. Is the room adequate?" I asked her as she took a rag and began to wipe the dishes off.

She nodded, clearing her throat and pushing a peice of blonde hair back behind her ear, smoothing the snakelike braid that reached the small of her back. "Are there any errands you need me to run for you today?" She looked over at me, yawning and covering her mouth. "Excuse me."

I shook my head. "No, thank you. If you need me I will be up in my study."

She nodded and gave me a coy smile, "And if you need me, I'll be here."

I nodded again, taking a few steps backward before turning on my heel to leave the kitchen. I was mildly surprised by how quiet she was; she seemed nothing like the mouthy young girl I had argued with only a few days ago. **  
**

**AHHH so I was going to make this longer but than I couldn't because I was super busy these past few weeks. So the continuation of this chapter is going to be in my next update! I'll make sure my chapters are longer next time.**

**Please read and review/ follow and favorite and check out my other stories!**

**Thank you for all your feedback.**


	3. III

**Sorry for taking forever to update, I had a bunch of school work going on! Thanks for all the reviews and follows! I appreciate it.  
Sorry these chapters are rather uneventful. It will pick up soon, I promise! I'm trying to establish relationships and introduce characters.  
Please review!**

****_Adrienne's POV_

Sunlight spilled through the windows, disturbing my peaceful sleep. I blinked once, then twice. Surprised by my unfamiliar surroundings, I sat up quickly; but I immediately relaxed against the pillows again as I remembered where I was. It had been about a month since I began working for Monsieur Enjolras, and every morning I had woken up the same. I was accustomed to the cold shack that I had been using as a makeshift home for the past month or so. Enjolras' warm, comfortable villa was a change of scenery, but a good one, especially considering the winter would be approaching before I knew it.

I yawned and stretched, sighing as I climbed out of the bed, pulling the covers back and fluffing the pillows so it looked like it had before I had gone to bed. Than I parted the curtains fully, letting the sun in.

The bureau in the corner held my few dresses and belongings, and I put on a faded blue dress that pulled at the bosom and shoulders slightly; it was too small. I stretched again to loosen the fabric before running my fingers through my hair I hadn't cut it since I was 10; before my family moved to France. Quickly, I braided my hair back away from my face and tied it with a white ribbon, wiping the sleep from my eyes.

I walked down the narrow hallway, which was painted a cream color, contrasting sharply with the dark mahogany flooring which was smooth underneath my bare feet. The villa was quite elaborate and well-furnished; Enjolras was undoubtedly a wealthy man, but it was quite big for a man who lived all alone. I wondered if he was planning on marrying anytime soon.

Stepping into the kitchen, I quickly washed my face and mouth with water from the pump before wiping my hands on a dishtowel. The kitchen had a large wooden table for preparing food in the middle with a fireplace across from it, a stove on the opposite side, and an icebox to the left of that. A small window that faced outward to the street was the only source of natural lighting in the dark, dim room. I put some hot water on the stove, and reached began slicing some bread before starting a fire for the stove.

I was lucky to have a job; and a warm place to sleep at night, but I couldn't help but yearn for the familiarity of my mother's warm embrace, her kind and reassuring words. Mother was gone though; she had been gone for five years now, and it was foolish to wallow in self pity when I had so many things I was blessed with. Besides that, it was interesting to think of how drastically my life had changed in the past few months. Many girls my age were married, or being courted, and even I had a suitor not too long ago; but I reminded myself to think of the present.

As I started breakfast, I reminded myself of everything I needed to do for Enjolras, even though he had hardly asked for much. He liked a tall glass of water and tea without sugar or honey with his breakfast. He spent much of his time reading books by philosophers and meeting with his other students. The scholar was a mysterious, brooding young man, with no apparent concern for starting a family or settling down. Rarely did he speak to me voluntarily, which made it easy for me to stay polite.

Watch your mouth. My mothers words echoed in my ear. That phrase had been repeated to me year after year, since as long as I could remember. I couldn't keep from speaking my mind; it was a reflex as natural as blinking, I did it without a second thought or a regard for how it may hurt others. As much as I tried, I could never stop. To combat this, I had decided to stay silent as possible around Monsieur Enjolras; because one slip of the tongue could leave me out on the street.

I heard the creak of a floorboard upstairs and arranged the toast and fruits on a plate with a cup of tea and water. Hurrying out to the dining room, I lit the candle with a match and set everything in it's place. It looked like something was missing; but it had since the day I began working here. Emptiness. Enjolras' boots on the stairs signaled the perfect time to retreat.

Moving back into the kitchen, I ate what was leftover, gazing out the window over the stove; where a small bird was perched on the branch of the tree. I bit into an apple, wiping the juice off my chin with the back of my hand. Crossing my legs, I flexed my foot; wondering what was to become of me. Would I spend my whole life here? My thoughts were interrupted by the kitchen door opening.

Turning around, I saw Monsieur Enjolras in a white pullover with a dark vest over it. Everyday he came in to give me his dishes, and every day I told him it wasn't necessary, but he continued to do it anyhow.

"Here," he offered.

I bit my lip and took them from his hands, "I told you, monsieur. I can take care of that."

Enjolras was a gorgeous man. I would usually describe some attractive as handsome; but that was before I met Enjolras. Although I'd never seen an angel, I supposed he wasn't far off. With flawless alabaster skin, and a sculpted jaw line; you couldn't help but look twice. His blonde hair was curly and long, pushed away from his face and cropped just past his ears. I was surprised to find he had no mistress, but his icy blue eyes probably scared off any woman. They were clear and robin's-egg blue; but held a defiant and truculent look behind them; cool and unfeeling.

"It's alright," He assured me in that passive way of his.

I didn't respond as I began to scrub off the dishes.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" he asked me suddenly and I looked up at him.

"No, I can take care of myself." I gave him a quizzical glance. "Is there anything I can do for_ you_?"

He shook his head, shifting his weight. "Just the usual."

I nodded curtly, focusing back on the dishes, but instead of leaving he stood and continued watching me.

"Is there something you need to say? Are you planning on sacking me, Monsieur?" I straightened up and looked at him, regretting my tone instantaneously..

He ignored it, shaking his head. "No, but I have a question."

I blinked, looking him in the eyes.

"As you know, I am very involved in my studies. I have a job for a professor at a university and spend a great majority of my time at a cafe discussing..." he trailed off and shook his head. "Anyways, you musn't tell anybody this but I have quite a disdain for the monarchy here in France."

I relaxed a bit. "And..."

"Well, I have been studying the ideals of John Locke. Are you familiar with his works?"

I nodded, then gestured for him to sit on the bench seat of the table where I prepared food.

He sat and continued "I find them to be very interesting. He suggests that a democracy, or a republic is the ideal form of government...and I think that may be a better choice for France. The streets here are crowded with beggars; because the bourgeoisie are the ones in power, they only keep money for themselves. It isn't fair to the people."

He was speaking so fast I could hardly translate in my head the words he was saying.

"What are you trying to tell me?" I sat across from him on the opposite side of the table.

He sighed, looking as though he was trying to find the words to say. "I suppose...you know what it is like to live under a democracy. I have so many questions, you can be a valuable source to my research. Hopefully, someday; I can rally the people so that they may receive the treatment they deserve."

I shook my head. "Excuse me, Monsieur. If this is the only reason you hired me, I won't be of much value. I moved to Paris when I was only ten. I don't suppose any of the information I give you will be anything new."

He gazed at me. "It's worth trying."

"Aren't you a member of the bourgeoisie yourself? You live in a nice home, have a wealthy family, even a maid." I smiled slightly, pointing to myself.

"It's none of your business what I am worth," he snapped, clearly offended by my careless remark. "I don't think that should concern you at all. It is my wealth that has given me the ability to see things from a different view. It is my wealth that had given me an education; one I plan to use to enlighten those who don't have the means. It gives you a job. And I could throw you on the street whenever I wish." He leaned forward.

"I was only commenting, Monsieur. And if you fired me, wouldn't that directly contradict the beliefs you just shared with me? You're looking to eliminate poverty, right? Not add to it." And so it began. Only one month and my job was good as gone. I bit my tongue, but couldn't humble myself enough to apologize just yet.

Enjolras didn't respond at first, he seemed slightly surprised by my response. "That is true. But there are plenty of willing and able citizens who could do a better job than you could. My mother hired you anyways, and I couldn't say no."

He stood up, towering over me before striding towards the door.

"John Locke," I said quietly, standing up, too.

Enjolras stopped then turned toward me.

"He believe in three unalienable rights." I took a step towards him. "Life, liberty and property. Our Declaration of Independence, which was essentially the letter of succession from Great Britain before the revolution, argued that the king had taken away those rights. Our democracy was formed to protect those rights."

Enjolras said nothing.

"I'll talk; even though I don't know much. Forgive me for my outburst. It was uncalled for." I managed.

He sighed, running a hand through his waves. "You can join me in my study tomorrow. Today, I have business to attend to."

Enjolras strode out and was gone the remainder of the day.


End file.
